#until he sees Aoife again and it’s one of those where they look almost close enough but good sense says don’t pry

[impossible-rat-babies]

funniest thing is there is a non zero chance that estinien has seen/met two mothers of eyrie’s children and would have No Idea about it

mayhaps funnier is aymeric met eyrie’s daughter aoife before they met him

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Desiderium

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter One

A JSE Fanfic

Hey! Hey! New AU! :D I’m really excited for it! As you can probably tell from the title, this is a fantasy-themed one. Taking place in the kingdom known as Glasúil, where magic and strange creatures are common, a man called Chase lives a simple life in a mountain village with his family. But of course, something just has to happen, and, well...you’ll see next chapter ;) Feel free to ask me anything about this AU, even though it’s still in its early stages I have a lot of ideas that I’m eager to share!

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The forest floor was blanketed in a layer of fallen leaves, red and orange and yellow matching the colors of those still on the tree branches. Bushes and shrubs made the terrain difficult for most people. But a single rabbit hopped across the ground, unhindered by the underbrush and making no sound on the crunchy fallen leaves. It stopped by a small bush, sniffed its leaves, and started to nibble on them.

Thwip! An arrow suddenly appeared next to the rabbit. It had barely landed when the rabbit was already running, darting off quickly. “Wait, no! No!” Someone shouted. A man appeared, shooting to his feet from where he’d been hiding behind a nearby bush. He nocked another arrow and let it loose, but it missed by a mile, landing in the trunk of a nearby tree. The rabbit was already gone.

“Damn it,” Chase cursed, looking down at his arm. That last shot had been sloppy; if he wasn’t wearing his arm guard, the bow string could’ve really hurt him. He tightened the guard straps and went to collect the arrows from where they’d landed. The one that hit the tree had its point chipped a bit. “Damn it,” he said again, whispering this time. If he kept chipping arrows, he’d have to buy more, and they couldn’t afford that right now.

Maybe he’d missed because it was starting to get dark. Chase looked through the branches of the trees towards the sky. He could see the rosy hint of a sunset in the distance. Well, if that wasn’t a sign that it was time to head back, he didn’t know what was. He’d already checked the snares he’d set up yesterday and set up new ones; there was nothing more to do. Disappointed, he turned back and headed east, towards town. Hopefully tomorrow he’d find more in the forest than three squirrels and a rabbit that he failed to shoot.

The trees soon thinned. Chase walked down a familiar slope of land and quickly saw the familiar buildings at the edge of town. Well, it wasn’t really a town. It was too small for that. It was actually a village, but people called it Hilltown, and so naturally it was shortened to just town. People said things like “Hey I’m heading back to town,” or “The millers live on the edge of town.” That might be confusing in a more urban setting, where there were more cities and towns close together, but they lived in the mountains. The village was the only “town” for miles.

Chase slipped in between two buildings and officially entered the village. These buildings were made of wood, and a bit rickety due to being built on sloping ground. When the village was founded, it was first built on a relatively flat area. But as it slowly grew, it had to creep upwards onto the incline that led up to the forest. The way the buildings continued onto the slope was the reason people started calling it Hilltown, though Chase had never been fond of the name.

“Hey! Is that you, Chase?”

“Huh?” Chase stopped, and looked around. He quickly spotted the source of the call: an older man, with a black beard streaked with gray, standing in the doorway of a house. “Hi, Kieran. How’re you doing?”

“Doing fine, boy,” Kieran said good-naturedly. “Come back from hunting so soon?”

“Well it is sunset. Do you expect me to shoot in the dark?” Chase commented, raising an eyebrow.

Kieran chuckled. “So...did you shoot any beaver today?”

“No, Kieran, there are no beavers in the mountains,” Chase sighed. The older man had been living here for three years, and he couldn’t seem to grasp that.

“Ah, if you say so,” Kieran waved away. “If you ever do catch one—”

“—I can bring the pelt to you, I know,” Chase finished. And again, he’d been offering that same proposal for three years.

“That’s the spirit! I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Be seeing you.”

Chase headed onward. As the ground started to level out, the buildings became sturdier, with more made of stone bricks, and grew closer together. The streets weren’t paved, but they were cleared, dusty paths well-trod. A few people were out, though not as many as there would have been earlier in the day. Mostly small kids running around and a few people taking turns getting water at the well in the center of the town. Chase waved at them, and they nodded back. One of them, Terrance the tailor, called out “How’re you doing?” and Chase answered, “Doing fine!”

Shortly after passing by the well, he came across the tallest building in town, and was once again stopped by someone calling his name. “Mister Chase!”

He stopped and turned to face the building: the temple. The couple that ran it were standing outside the doorway. One of them, Mother Aoife, was waving at him. “Hello, Mother. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, well, can I ask you a question?” Mother Aoife said. She gestured at the entrance. “Do you think we’d have room for another holy symbol up there?”

“Uh...” Chase took a step back. The doorway to the temple had two symbols on either side of it, showing that members of either faith could practice inside. To the left was a blue candle, almost as long as a person’s arm, burning and dripping wax. To the right were two interlocking circles the size of someone’s head: one gold-ish with small triangles around the edge, one silver-ish with a line down the center. “I mean...I guess you could put one above the door.”

“No, we can’t do that!” Mother Aoife said. “That would imply that one faith is higher than the others.”

“Right. Then, I’m guessing it would be the same if you put a symbol in the space beneath one of the other two?”

“Exactly.”

“I told you it wouldn’t work.” Pastor Cait frowned. She was the other leader at the temple, and was Mother Aoife’s wife. They’d actually held two ceremonies, one for each of their respective faiths. That day had been one of the most active days Hilltown had seen in the past ten years. “Besides, nobody in town follows the Forger.”

“But it is becoming popular with those down in the flatlands of Glasúil,” Mother Aoife insisted. “What if someone comes to visit and spread the faith?”

“Well, neither of us even know anything about the Forge, anyway,” Pastor Cait pointed out.

“We could always find someone.”

“That runs into the problem of nobody in town following the Forger.”

“Um...is that all you wanted me for?” Chase asked awkwardly.

“Oh no, I just thought I’d ask you first,” Mother Aoife said. “Stacia stopped by. She said to tell you that she was leaving early and would be home when you were done hunting.”

“Really? That’s strange.” Stacia usually worked all day, and with the fall harvest coming up, she’d probably be out on the farms from sunrise to sunset. “Why?”

“She said something about Quentin,” Mother Aoife said, frowning as she tried to remember. “I think he might’ve been getting sick? There was something wrong.”

Chase felt his heart drop, leaving his chest cold. “Why didn’t you start with that?!”

“Well, I—” Mother Aoife’s explanation was wasted. Chase was already running.

It wasn’t too far from here. He sprinted down the street, not bothering to look at any of the people he passed by, heading for the other edge of town. The buildings started to spread out again, small patches of vegetable gardens dotting the rows of low stone houses. He kept running until he reached his own, recognizing the garden of radishes outside and the rough chalk drawings on the stones outside, drawn by children. Without waiting, he threw open the wooden door and rushed inside.

“Dad?” Amabel, his daughter, was sitting on the edge of the rough wooden table, carefully trying to  tie the end of a string into a loop.

“Hi, Amy. Where’s your mother and brother?” Chase asked.

“Bedroom,” Amabel said, pointing at the doorway, blocked off by a hanging length of cloth.

“Thanks.” Chase ruffled her red hair as he walked past, not wasting any time and ducking underneath the cloth. “What happened? Is it bad?!”

Stacia looked up, clearly surprised. “Chase? What do you mean what happened?”

“Mother Aoife, down at the temple, she said that you said something happened with Quentin a-and that you were leaving early because of it,” Chase hurried through the explanation. “Is everything okay?!”

“Did she...well I guess it would sound bad if that’s all she said,” Stacia muttered. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

“Hi Dad!” Quentin was lying in the big double-bed that Chase and Stacia usually shared, propped up against the wooden frame. Their thick winter quilt was wrapped around him, his little face and dark curls being the only thing to poke out of the patchwork cloth.

“He fell in the water trough for Rainer’s sheep when I looked away,” Stacia explained, sighing. “Got pretty wet.”

“There was a goat staring at me!” Quentin said. He didn’t seem any worse for wear.

“It’ll probably be fine, but considering his...constitution, I-I thought it’d be best if I took the rest of the day off to keep an eye on him.” Stacia pulled the blanket up over Quentin’s head, much to his delight.

All the tension immediately drained from Chase’s body. He stumbled against the wall, losing his balance in the flood of relief. “Oh thank the elders,” he breathed.

Stacia stood up. She walked over to the bedroom window—the only one in their cottage to have glass—and made sure it was firmly closed. Then she turned to face Chase. “Did you...did you get back to town early and decide to check on us?”

“No, I just got back, I ran all the way here,” Chase said, catching his breath for the first time.

“Oh.” Stacia glanced at the arrows in his quiver, then at the three squirrels he had slung over his back. “Sorry, I guess I just thought, since you didn’t seem to find that much—”

“It’s fall, Stacy, animals are starting to hibernate,” Chase said, rubbing his eyes.

“Right. I always forget that.” Stacia nodded.

“How are things going at the farm?”

“Alright. Busy. You know, Jane told me that down in the flatlands, where it’s warmer, they grow potatoes through the winter. Which makes sense, but it’s strange, isn’t it?”

“Yea, pretty strange.” Chase stood up straight. “Well, I’m going to go take care of these squirrels.”

“Oh!” Stacia’s eyes widened. “Wait, before you do, do you remember that you’re going to start teaching Amabel shooting on Hunt’s Day?”

“Yes, don’t worry,” Chase assured her. “I already have a great spot marked out.”

Stacia let out a breath. “Good. With everything today, I almost forgot until now.”

“Well, clearly Amabel didn’t forget. I saw her trying to make a bow string in the main room.” Chase smiled. “It looked pretty good, for her first time doing it on her own.”

“Wonderful.” Stacia turned back to Quentin, who was picking at the seams of the quilt. “Now go take care of those squirrels. Are you going to make dinner or should I?”

“Uh. You seem busy, I’ll do it,” Chase offered. “Right after the squirrels.”

It was well into the night by the time everyone was settled down. Quentin was fine, he hadn’t caught a cold, which was a huge relief. He’d been born a bit weaker than other children, and didn’t have as much energy as them. He often fell ill, and it was always a worry to Chase and Stacia. Amabel was heartier, but she was a quiet child. She often wandered about on her own, and was very familiar with the layout of Hilltown and the potato farms on the edge of the village, where many people worked, including Stacia. At ten years old, it was about time for her to start taking up more serious chores, and she’d asked Chase to take her hunting more than once. Of course, she had to learn to shoot first, and luckily for her, he was ready to teach her soon.

They had mutton for dinner, which they’d traded for with Rainer. Chase had managed to shoot down a bird last week, and the farmer had gladly traded a sheep for that. Now they were all sitting, taking the time to rest. Stacia was sitting in the rocking chair, patching up a hole in one of her tunics, while Amabel and Quentin were sitting by the stone fireplace, both of them now under the winter quilt.

“Don’t get too close, kids,” Chase called from his position near the window, where he was drawing their curtains closed. “A spark could fly and catch that fabric on fire.”

“It’s fine,” Amabel said, pulling the blanket closer and wrapping it around her and Quentin’s legs. “Dad, we need new curtains, those are old.”

“I know, Amy,” Chase muttered, glancing at the threadbare fabric. “But we can’t get any right now, so we’re keeping these until they fall apart.”

“Hmm.” Amabel hummed. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can we have a story?”

At that suggestion, Quentin perked up. “A story! Yes!”

Chase’s eyes lit up. “Oh, well, I guess we could have one.”

Stacia looked up. “It’s late. And you need your sleep, Quentin, just in case.”

“It’ll be a short one, then,” Chase said. He walked over and sat down in one of the three rickety wooden chairs by the table. The kids spun around so their backs were to the fireplace and scooted a bit closer, though not out of range for the heat of the fire. “Where do you want your story to be from tonight? Down in the flatlands? Maybe along the coast or in the ocean? Or even in Suilthair, where the king lives?”

“What about...here?” Amabel suggested. “In the mountains?”

“Hmm...” Chase stroked his chin, fingers running along his beard hair. “You know what? I think I could work with that.”

Quentin cheered. Amabel stayed quiet, but she leaned forward, ready to hear. Stacia sighed quietly, continuing to patch, but occasionally glanced upwards, showing she was listening as well.

“Do you know what our mountain range is called in the flatlands? It’s just home to us, but to them, we live in the Dragon’s Teeth.” Chase paused for Quentin to gasp. “It’s called that for two reasons. One, because of how high and pointy they are, looking a bit like teeth. Two, because years and years ago, before people moved up into the mountains, dragons lived here.”

“What?!” Quentin whispered. “Big dragons?! Like in the warrior story?”

“Even bigger! Because up in the mountains they had a ton of space to grow into. They lived in caves, and each dragon had its own mountain.” Chase smiled. “Of course, there aren’t any dragons anymore. At least, not in our kingdom. Who knows? Maybe there are more across the seas. But dragons were very magical, and a whole bunch of other magical creatures gathered around the spaces where they used to live, sucking up all the leftover magic.”

“Do wizards get their magic from dragons?” Amabel asked.

Chase shrugged. “I don’t know. Our family’s not that magical, so I never learned that. Maybe you could find that out one day.”

Amabel nodded, her little eyes determined to answer this question someday.

“But even though there aren’t any dragons anymore, there are a lot of other creatures. You know what I always say to do if something bad happens in town?”

“Run to the forest,” the kids said in unison.

“Exactly.” Chase nodded. “Mom and I will come find you. And if nothing’s happened by the next sunset,  you come back to town on your own.” That last part was added at Stacia’s request, since she was concerned about food and woodland animals. “You know all the rules about avoiding wolves and bears, but...there are magical things in the forest. So I have three more rules for you: if a deer has golden antlers, don’t bother it. If you see a horse out on its own, don’t touch it. And if you hear a woman crying, don’t go after it.”

Quentin nodded, but Amabel tilted her head to the side. “Why? And that last one, what if it’s Mom?”

“Well, you could recognize Mom’s voice,” Chase said. “I mean if it sounds like a strange woman. Because that might not be a woman at all. That could be a banshee. They won’t mean you any harm on their own, but if they see you, they’ll try to tell you about coming tragedies. Sounds like a good warning, right? Except that hearing this warning makes the tragedy more likely to happen. So you should stay away. One time, while I was out hunting about, um...ten years ago, before you were born. I was out with Micheal down the bend, we heard someone crying. I decided to walk away, but Micheal chased after it, and when he came back he said he found a banshee. And the next morning, very suddenly, his mother died.”

“Oh no,” Quentin breathed. “What about the other two?”

“A deer with golden antlers probably isn’t a deer at all. It could be the Elder Horned One in disguise. If you disturb him, you could find yourself whisked away to join his hunters. And a horse out on its own definitely isn’t a horse at all. It’s actually a kelpie. And if you touch a kelpie, you’ll get stuck to it. It’ll run into the nearest water and drag you under, and you won’t be able to let go.”

“Alright, I think that’s enough for the night,” Stacia said, standing up. “Amabel, Quentin, you’re all washed up?”

“Yes, Mom,” they said in unison. 

“Good. Off to bed with you.” Stacia hurried the kids over to the corner, where the small bed the two of them shared was tucked against the wall. “We’ll be seeing you in the morning,” she said, pulling back the blankets and tucking them in once the kids were under.

Chase wandered over. “Good night, Quen. Good night, Amy.” He gave them each a kiss on the forehead.

“Good night Dad,” Amabel said. Quentin was already yawning, face buried in the pillow. “Good night Mom.”

“Good night,” Stacia said, giving her and Quentin a kiss as well.

With that, the two adults retreated to the separate bedroom, quickly getting ready for bed. “You ended that story abruptly,” Chase commented.

“Well you did say they were going to get drowned by a kelpie,” Stacia pointed out.

“No, I said that they wouldn’t be if they didn’t touch it. It was a cautionary tale.”

“Still, not the best to hear at night.” Stacia ran a comb through her hair. “And also, I don’t think we should tell them to go into the forest anymore. Not without an adult there.”

“Really?” Chase frowned. “Why?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Oh, come on, Stacy. I know it is, but you can’t tell me you didn’t run around the forest when you were their age. I know I did, and I walked out. Michael did. Terrance did. Wendy and Emilia did.”

“Things are different now,” Stacia said slowly. She shifted uneasily on her feet, then glanced out the window, as if making sure nobody was outside. “Look, you know Rose, Aodhan’s wife?”

“No, but I definitely know Aodhan, he runs the potato farms.”

“Well, Rose is married to him. The past week, she’s been working with us for the harvest, and...she says there are...new things in the forest.”

Chase paused. He’d been about to blow out the candle in the sconce by the door, but something about the way Stacia said that made him pause. “Like...what?”

“Townsfolk have been seeing the figures of...people,” Stacia whispered. “But not your regular, everyday people. These ones carry weapons, a-and they wear...masks. Masks shaped like animal faces. They move quickly and silently, and some think that they’re spirits of some kind.”

“I’ve...never heard of spirits wearing animal masks,” Chase said in a low voice.

“Neither have I. But here’s the thing: Rose doesn’t believe those rumors.” Stacia paused. “Did you know there’s trouble down in the flatlands? People are...unhappy. With how the king is running things.”

“What? That’s strange,” Chase muttered. “I remember hearing that he’s the best king Glasúil ever had.” Though now that he was thinking about it, it had been a while since he’d heard something like that.

“Well, it’s trouble either way to have people thinking that about a king,” Stacia said firmly. “And Rose thinks that these spirits in masks are just people running around the forest, hiding out, being rebels. And that’s dangerous, Chase. Animals and magic behave by certain rules you can expect, but people...you just don’t know with them.”

“I guess you’re right,” Chase muttered. He paused, then blew out the candle and headed back towards bed. “Well, I haven’t seen any of these masked spirits. And I’m in the forest every day. So it’s probably nothing to worry about yet.”

“That forest is big, Chase,” Stacia said, clearly worried despite his reassurance. “You’ve probably only explored a tiny part of it, and the same goes for anyone else in town.”

That was true. Even in his farthest hunting trips, he’d only gone far enough to find his way back to Hilltown relatively quickly. “I still say it’ll be fine,” he reiterated. “I don’t see why any rebels would bother us, even if they were out there.” He climbed into bed. “If I see something weird when I’m out tomorrow, I’ll reconsider it. Besides, it’s not good to think about things like this before bed, as you pointed out to the kids.”

Stacia sighed, and got into bed as well, pulling the blankets up. “I just...don’t want anything to happen to them.”

Chase nodded. “I don’t either,” he agreed softly. Then he took a deep breath. “Good night, Stacy.”

“Good night, Chase.” Stacia leaned over and blew out the candle on the bedside table, leaving the room dark except for the moonlight coming through the window. 

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The next morning went the same as every other morning. The family had breakfast, either Stacia or Chase went out to manage the garden while the other took care of the kids—today it was Chase for the former and Stacia for the latter, though they switched every other day—then Stacia got ready to go to the farms and Chase got ready to go hunting. As always, the kids went with Stacia, wandering around within eyesight and earshot of her while she worked. Though Chase could tell Amabel was eager to start going into the more dangerous forest with her dad, judging by the way she kept looking at her miniature bow, still unstrung. He ruffled her hair and reminded her that Hunt’s Day was just two days away, then headed off, waving goodbye to Stacia and the kids.

Passing through town was the same as ever as well. Some people were lined up at the well, as they always seemed to be. It looked as though the temple was unchanged, so clearly Mother Aoife and Pastor Cait had resolved their issue. Kieran waved goodbye as Chase walked past, and reminded him to look for beavers to shoot. 

And from there...the day was largely uneventful. Which was not good. Hunting was always a lot of waiting and wandering and being quiet, occasionally interrupted by action as you aimed and shot at an animal. But in the fall like this, that last bit of action was becoming rarer. And it didn’t help that it was really starting to get cold. Chase could see his breath in the air in front of him, and he kept pulling his felt hat down over his head. It was old, and almost nobody else in town had one like it, but he kept it because it had a handy brim for blocking the sun. It was also good for cold days like these, when he hadn’t grabbed his jacket because he mistakenly believed it would be as warm today as it was yesterday.

The sun passed overhead. Chase stopped around midday to have a lunch of bread and jerky, then moved on. He stopped by his usual snares, but found that nothing had stumbled into them. Not even a few squirrels like the day before. Growing frustrated, and more than a little desperate, he wandered farther into the forest, but still found nothing. This was bad. Sure, they had a stockpile of preserved meat and jerky from his hunts during the summer, but that would run out eventually. And what if Quentin got sick, and needed something more hearty than dried, stringy meat? What would they do then?

It was starting to get late when he saw it. Just a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Chase stiffened, and slowly turned. There, right in between two trees, fully in view of him...was a deer. Its coat was dark brown, almost black, and it was grazing peacefully, not paying him the least bit of attention. It had been a few weeks since he’d seen a deer. That was a bit unusual, really. But it didn’t matter anymore. There was one here now. Slowly, he drew his bow.

The deer raised its head and started to walk away. Carefully, Chase followed it. He stepped carefully, making sure there were no twigs or crunchy fallen leaves before putting his foot down. After a while, the deer stopped again, grazing for a bit. Chase made sure he was in a good position, then raised his bow and reached towards the quiver on his hip. Then the deer started walking away again.

Chase followed it, for longer than he probably should have. The shadows grew more slanted, then started to take over, but he kept following the deer. Every time he got into a good position to shoot and started to grab an arrow, it moved on. After a while, it felt like a game. A game of...chase. He almost laughed when the thought occurred to him, but stopped just in time to catch the sound.

It was well into dusk when the deer wandered into a small circular clearing. Chase stopped, still hidden by the trees, and gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering. Once the sun went behind the mountains in autumn, the temperature dropped rapidly. But it wouldn’t be long now. He had to get this deer. They needed it. And now it was just standing there, ears twitching. Chase raised the bow again, and this time when he reached for an arrow, he pulled it out and slowly nocked it, steadying his stance to take aim.

But then...no, something was different. The deer’s antlers...had they gotten bigger? More...curvy? Chase paused, puzzled. Then he took a closer look.

The antlers were...glinting. He was sure they were ordinary bone before, but now they looked almost...golden.

Gasping, Chase instantly let go of his bow and arrow. They landed in the undergrowth with soft thumps.

The deer’s ears stopped twitching. But instead of running away, it turned around. And it looked at him. And there was something different about its dark, dark eyes. Different from other deer eyes, from other animal eyes, that Chase had seen before.

He slowly raised his hands. “I—I didn’t kn—”

The deer looked away from him, turnin to the side, staring off into the distance. Then it broke into a run in the opposite direction, hooves making no sound on the forest floor.

For a long, long while, Chase just stood there, shivering, breath pluming in the air. Had that...really happened? Or had he just imagined it because he’d been out in the cold for so long? After some time, he bent over and picked up his bow and the arrow he’d dropped, putting them away. Well, it was also dark. He could’ve been just...seeing things in the moonlight. And speaking of moonlight, he should really be heading home by now. He was late. Now...which way was it?

He’d wandered a long way following that deer. It was dark and he wasn’t as familiar with this part of the forest as he was with areas closer to home. So by the time he found his way back, it was definitely night, no longer twilight. Stacia and the kids must be so worried. Chase picked up the pace.

Wait...if it was night, then why was there an orange glow in the distance? It was well past sunset. Chase squinted, and in a split second, he realized a few things: First, the glow was coming from the direction of Hilltown. Second, even if it was sunset, the forest was west of town, and therefore the town wouldn’t be between him and the sunset. Third, he was getting closer to the glow. Closer in a way that just didn’t happen with a setting sun. His heart froze. And he burst into a flat run, easily clearing the edge of the forest.

The village was on fire.

Chase just stood and gaped for a moment, feeling the heat from here. The wooden buildings that ran up the sloping ground were all ablaze. He could see dark shapes in the streets, and the figures of people running around, with—horses? A lot of horses. There were only about four in the whole town, and this was definitely more than that.

Snapping out of the daze, he ran, but in his haste, lost footing on the uneven ground and fell, tumbling head over heels for a bit before he managed to stop himself. “Ow...” he groaned, lifting himself up and coming face to face with the flames. Quickly, he threw himself backwards, scrambling to a safe distance.

Now that he was closer, he could definitely make out what was happening. The dark shapes on the ground between the burning buildings...were bodies. He couldn’t recognize anyone, but then again, he couldn’t bring himself to look for any longer than necessary. And there were strangers wandering around. Some on foot, some on horses, but all wearing chain mail armor underneath dark tunics. Chase stared at them, wide-eyed. The strangers were shouting. To each other? To their horses? To anyone left? It was hard to tell.

But they hadn’t noticed Chase. Quickly getting to his feet, he started running around the edge of town. He had to get home! At this time of night, Stacia would be there, Quentin and Amabel would be there—were they okay?! They had to be okay! He didn’t know what he would do if—He wouldn’t forgive himself if he was away and missed being able to help them.

Going around town was a lot slower than going through it, but everything—everything—was on fire. Even the stone buildings! How was that possible?! If the stone buildings were on fire, their cottage could—he pushed himself to run faster.

He couldn’t avoid it anymore. He had to run into the town to get home. But the smoke—even from here, his eyes were watering. So he took his hat off and pressed it to his face, filtering it before he could breathe it in. And he plunged into the raging flames. Even staying in the center of the path, the heat was almost unbearable. But Stacia—Quentin, Amabel—

The cottage. Their home. It was also on fire. The old curtains were ash, the vegetable garden was a raging inferno. “Stacia!” Chase shouted. “Stacy! Quentin! Amabel! Stacy! Quen! Amy! Where are you?!”

Voices. Chase turned and saw some of those strangers nearby, one on a horse. And...he hadn’t noticed this before, but there was a symbol on the back of their dark tunics. A shield, black and blue striped, with a green circle in the center, a black dot in the center of that. The symbol was—it was—the symbol for their kingdom, the kingdom of Glasúil. Chase had never seen it in person, but everyone grew up learning of that insignia. And they also learned that, while local militia may wear a simplified green ring on their clothes, only soldiers working directly for the royal family were allowed to wear the full crest.

Chase recalled this fact dimly, but it didn’t really register. One of the strangers—the soldiers—started to turn around. And gasping, coughing a bit, Chase turned and ran right back out of town, never stopping until he was well clear of the last few houses, out onto the potato fields. In the distance, he saw the house of Aodhan and Rose, the farm owners. It was also on fire.

What was he supposed to do now?! Stacia, and the kids...were they...? No, no they couldn’t be.

The forest.

He’d told the kids to run into the forest if there was ever any danger in town. And sure, Stacia was concerned about rebels in the woods and those strange masked figures, but in the face of this? Maybe she would do the same. Well...it was all he could think of. The only straw he could grasp. Stumbling, Chase turned around and ran back the way he came.

The trees enveloped him in a strange sense of calm, a world removed from the blazing horrors of the burning town. He stumbled for a moment, tripping over some brush, then ran faster. “Stacia! Quentin! Amabel!” he yelled. Even with the distant light from the flaming ruins of the village, the trees above blocked out most of the light, leaving him in shadows. His eyes darted about for any movement. “Where are you?! Can you hear me?”

Abandoning all his hunter’s instincts telling him to stay quiet, he ran through the woods, staggering over brush and rocks that he couldn’t see in the darkness. “Can you hear me?! Answer me! Stacy! Quen! Amy!” Chase’s cries pierced through the silence. There was no sign of them. Maybe they’d gone farther. Thinking that, he plunged deeper into the trees.

Things quickly became unfamiliar. Whether it was because of the distance or because of the darkness, he couldn’t say. But the strangeness only spurred him on. What if his family was lost out here? Alone in the woods? He’d taught the kids something about foraging for food, but not enough, not in this situation. And Stacia was a farmer, not a hunter or a forester. He had to find them. He had to—

Chase noticed the lack of ground beneath his foot a split second after stepping forward. Then he fell. Luckily, it wasn’t off a cliff, but he did land with a loud splash! as he fell into some shallow water. Pebbles and rocks bit into this arms as he extended them out to brace for impact. He sat up, spluttering, now completely soaked. What was this, a stream? A pond? He couldn’t quite see in the dark, but he did know one thing: there were no streams or ponds near the town, and certainly not in the parts of the forest he knew.

Securing his hat, he stood up. His bow and quiver knocked against his side, and he then realized that the fall had caused most of his arrows to fall out. Well...that wouldn’t be good in the future. But he couldn’t see where they’d fallen into the water, and there was no time. He pressed onward.

The trees were close together, heavy branches blocking out the sun. Chase kept his arms out in front of him, to make sure he didn’t run into a trunk. If he couldn’t even see the trees, he definitely wouldn’t be able to see a person. And they wouldn’t be able to see him. “Stacia! Kids! A-are you out h-here?” He gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering. It was cold before, and now it was later, and he was wet, making it positively freezing. “Stacy! K-kids! Are you here?!” But he kept going.

The rush of emotion was starting to fade. He was getting tired. Maybe if he took a rest...no! No, what could be happening to them while he rested?! And besides, he’d be easy prey for any predators out here if he slept. He staggered forward. The forest was practically pitch black, but he kept shouting, his voice growing hoarse, and hoping to hear a reply. 

The underbrush must be thicker here, because he kept tripping up. He fell down twice, but pulled himself to his feet and went onward. His hands were shaking...shivering. “S...Sta-asha. Quen...Quentnn…Ammbel,” he mumbled. It was hard to keep his eyes open. Where was he? Shouldn’t he...shouldn’t he have found some town by now? No, the forest went on for...for acres. He knew this. How could he forget...“Plea...pl’se...say y’r here...I...wher...?”

He couldn’t...couldn’t stop now. He needed to find them. Couldn’t...leave them. On their own. He kept pressing onward. It was getting so hard...he had to use the trees for support sometimes. Stop to take a break. But not to give up. “Can’...give up...St-stace...Quen...Am...ple-please...”

And once again, he stepped somewhere without support. But now he couldn’t even register it. He just knew he was falling, rolling down, down a hill. Coming to a stop when he hit...something. A tree? Those felt like...roots, beneath him. His arm moved a bit, trying to grab something to pull himself up. Fingers drifted across a bark-covered surface, but couldn’t...couldn’t grab. So his arm fell back down. Maybe...he should rest for just a few minutes.

But after just a few seconds of staying still, he heard a strange rustling sound. Raising his head weakly, he saw...a strange sight indeed. People. No, not quite people. Human bodies, dressed in dark clothes...but with white-feathered bird faces where heads should be. Four or five of them...Wait. No, not bird heads. Bird masks. Masks made out of some sort of white material. Hadn’t...hadn’t he heard something about masks recently?

The masked figures drew closer. Chase stared up at them. He was so...so tired. He wouldn’t be able to run even if the thought had managed to...to get through. 

One of them knelt down next to him, pulling off a glove. They pressed a pair of fingers to his neck, and he shivered. He wasn’t cold anymore. Or he was, but this bird person’s hands were colder.

They stood up again, and turned to the others. He heard the sound of voices, but his head couldn’t process the words. What were they...were they hear to...help? Or...?

He was too tired to think about it. He let his head fall back to the forest floor.

The last thing Chase felt before losing consciousness was the sudden lift of someone picking him up.

[xtrash-writing-trashx420]

Cheeky Minx || John Shelby x OC

//Welcoming the New Recruit//

"Makenna Aoife MacTavish, A.K.A. Makenna Muldoon; Duchess of Glenbrook, Aged 23

Served at the Somme as a field nurse and,"

The man before me takes a pause and looks up at me in faux surprise, as if the information on the paper he's gawking at isn't exactly why he's come seeking me out, and then continues in an almost condescending manner;

"Hm... and soforth was awarded title as Duchess and Sole Proprietor of Glenbrook Estates and Enterprises in Boston for her acts of valor.," He pauses again to throw down the file he was reading and light himself a cigarette.

I take in every detail, knowing that this meeting can end up only one of two ways, and assess the scenario. Tilting my head slightly and leaning back into the armchair in front of his desk, I cross my legs; his eyes glance from his ministrations with the box of matches he's holding and zip down to my left thigh where one strip of honeyed milk lies perfectly exposed between my black leather garter holster and my thigh-high nylon stockings.

I see the slight glint of mirth cross his steel blue eyes as he catches my not-so-subtle warning and continues to light his cigarette. I watch as he pulls his drag, the way his fingers just barely drape the stick of tobacco between them without effort, the way his eyes study mine, the way his free hand keeps switching between his knee and the top of the desk.

'A gangster like this doesn't get nervous over one woman with a snubnose purse pistol... Who is he waiting for?'

"I'll take one, while your at it." He smirks at this, and goes to hand me the one he's smoking. It's my turn to smirk, as I nod to his pack.

"A new one, if you don't mind." He raises his eyebrow, but nevertheless, complies. As I lean forward to take the cigarette, he lights another match and lights it for me, leaning over his desk so I don't have to.

'A gentlemanly gangster, not too hard on the eyes either.,' I admit to myself, studying his sharp features and piercing eyes.

Finally, after what seems like ages of simply sitting across and analyzing eachother, he continues.

"You're titled Duchess of Glenbrook but the common people call you Miss Kenna. You have 15 bars, 2 breeders farms, a horse track and 27 plots of real estate, and that's just in London alone. Glenbrook Estates is what, a mansion? And it says here you have 3 vacation homes as well." He scoffs and throws the file down on his desk.

"Well, let's get on with it, Mr. Shelby, as you well know, I'm a busy woman.," My voice is far too suave for my liking, but the situation calls for a little theater. "I would assume you called me here for a reason, this is hardly the place for a business meeting with someone of my status."

I sound like a proper posh cunt, and it seems as if he's taking the bait as he groans out a sigh and leans back into his chair. He lifts a hand to rub his temples, and then slams his fist on his desk in a motion so fast and loud, I was almost startled.

Almost.

He seems unfazed my lack of reaction, and continues on.

"Let's not pretend like you don't know what I want. You have influence all over, spies everywhere, and a very high standing. Everyone knows who you are. Nothing happens without you knowing about it.-"

"-As if I don't already know that-" I snappily interject.

"And I want your men, and your cooperation when we take over London. You're the most untouchable woman in all of North America. If you tell someone not to fuck with us, they won't. And those that do, you have ways of making it so they never existed."

I frown, sinking into the armchair infront of his desk once more and taking a long drag of my smoke.

"I see."

For the next few minutes we simply stare at eachother while we finish off our smokes, picking, analyzing, contemplating. Finally, after he offers me the crystal ashtray to put out, I appraise him and ask one simple question.

"What do you want from me?"

~~~~~~~

It's been 2 months since my meeting with Thomas Shelby at his gambling den, and 6 days since our last correspondence.

"Pack what you can in a suitcase and my men will come to collect you on Thursday. You're not safe."

No explanation, no reasoning, just that little tidbit over the phone while gunshots rang true and the sounds of men fighting grumbled in the background before he abruptly hung up. And since Thursday had come and gone the day after the call, I had resorted to relieving all of my staff save for my most trusted.

The only ones left on premises were my gate guards, my doormen, and my butler amd personal guard Carleton, who had only worked for me for 2 years but I was rather well aquanted with. We had hit it off rather well, and I considered him more friend than staff. He was a tall, broad shouldered Jewish man with a scruffy, large beard and bright eyes that reminded me of a child's, with a contradictory scowl that would make a grizzly piss himself.

Initially after receiving the warning, I had brushed it off without care. Being hunted was nothing new to me after all, being a woman who had served in the war and in other more internal battles of politics. But this was different.

I remember after the call I had snorted in laughter, summing it up as a joke and continuing on with my day. I had been untouchable, faceless and anonymous since the war. Only the most internal government files and most skilled intelligence organizations even knew what I looked like, let alone my real name. That was what had led me to agree to take up business with Thomas in the first place. But 2 months into business with the bloke and I show up to my race track to find every single one of my employees and horses shot and beat to hell.

Since then, I had taken to locking myself in my art studio with my easels and paints to distract myself; though it did little to nothing to soothe my racing mind. For the millionth time in just that day, I wondered why I wasn't safe, I wondered if Thomas and his Blinders had been picked off by their enemies, I wondered if my name had been let slip by one of his lackies in a braw deal that ended badly. I couldn't understand how I had gone from being untouchable, to going into hiding.

The only constant in each equation was none other than Thomas Shelby, and I made a mental note to tear him a new asshole when I got the chance.

I gave a start, knocked from my thoughts as Carleton entered with my afternoon tea, and my paintbrush skewed off stroke.

"Oh, fuck." I swore crassly, looking around my desk to find the paint I had used on the background to cover my mistake; not noticing my butler's sarcastic and smug grin over my classless use of vulgarity.

"Your tea, and lunch, Miss Muldoon." He presented my tray with grandiose show of putting it on my desk and lifting the cover to reveal my tea and what looked to be ladyfingers and some sort of meat sandwich. I didn't care, I was starving and anxious, so I sat and ate, thankful for the distraction.

"Don't be so smug, Carleton, I'm going mad up here." I complained as I ate, gesturing around me. "That smug bastard Shelby is going to pay for this. I've lived so comfortably until now."

"Speaking of, madam, you received a telegram."

"Oh bother, burn it."

"It seems important, ma'am. It mentions the race track."

At this I lean back to look over at him, he's moved clear halfway across the room to speak, and he's shifting his weight and wringing his hands. I sigh, and wave him on. He reads it out slowly, and I "tsk" in disappointment.

"You haven't been practicing," I chastise him, pulling a "give it here" motion with my fingers and taking the telegraph from him as soon as he's close enough. "Have you even read any of the practice books I've given you?"

"...No, ma'am, it's more difficult when you're not helping."

I glance at him with an incredulous look.

"That's no excuse, and you know it." I say, finally taking a moment to look at and read the telegraph in my hands, but it doesn't matter, because as soon as I go to focus, a gunshot resounds from outside the estate by the gates.

With a start, I get up and run to the window, moving the curtains to get a better view. I hear Carleton move the opposite way, closing the doors behind him as he leaves.

I continue to watch out the window, trying to see whats happening, though not to much success. The large fountain in my front garden is centre view from this room and all I can see behind it is a motorcar at my gate and my gatemen pointing their rifles at it. As I walk along the windows to try to catch a better view, I just barely see an arm come out the window of the motorcar with a piece of paper clutched in their outstretched hand before my gatemen move to unlock the gate and let the car through.

That's all I need to see to know.

The Peaky Blinders are outside my house.

(SO this will be a series based off of a slightly Mary-Sue character but it just is part of the story, please don't hate me for it lol. It'll make sense as to why she's this massive standing character later on. She's still a normal ass broad with hormones and issues so its okay lmfao. But anywhoooo, this is basically just a filler character intro to explain why Kenna is around and stuff. John will be in the next chapter, don't worry 😉 also my dumbass didn't proof-read this because its 6:00am and I NEED sleep. )

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Dr Gardi

The flight home seemed faster than the first. The time zones helped as well because heading back to Canada would land them earlier in the day than if they'd travelled the same time in Europe. Due to the time constraint, they hadn't driven and instead took a private jet back to Frankfurt for their international flight. Why they couldn't have done that in the first place, Sydryn's answer was terribly frugal for someone who clearly had accumulated several millions of dollars (at least) in their lifetime. Nevertheless, it was important that they get back faster this time. Yori was called ahead of time so he knew of their arrival. Lino came to pick up his brother, Ruben, and Dusty, while Sydryn had a car waiting for them and Köbi to head to the hospital.

When they got home, Vi and Yori were waiting on the porch with the kids. The pups ran up to the car while Vi was holding Grey, but as soon as Dusty stepped out of the vehicle, Grey immediately called out his name and disappeared, reappearing in Dusty’s arms. Dusty was so stunned, he nearly dropped him, but managed to hold onto him and held him tight. “Grey!” “Daddy! I miss you!” Grey whined, pulling his arms tight around Dusty's neck. His father chuckled incredulously. “You teleported!” “I did?” Grey asked, clearly not registering what he'd just done. “Yeah! You were…” Dusty pointed to Vi. “Has he…Has he done it before?” Vi shook his head. “First time.” “Grey!” Dusty kissed his son's cheek and hugged him tight. “I missed you too, so much…” Dante and Ruben were hoisting their giggling children up in their arms as they walked back to the house. “We missed you so much,” Dante was saying, as he carried Rowan. “You don't even know.” “Are Daddy and Papa still fighting?” Skylar asked. Ruben looked at Dante and smiled. “I think we're okay now. You don't have to worry. We have a lot to talk about though.” “Talking's boring!” Marco stated. “Can we play a game?” “Maybe we'll play a quick game and then we'll talk, okay?” Dante suggested. “Sure,” Ruben agreed. “Does this mean Grey has to go home?” Rowan asked. “Not yet.” Dante motioned for Dusty to come join them inside before walking up the porch to Yori who was waiting for his kisses.

Arriving at the hospital, Köbi and Sydryn were met in the lobby by Aoife. She re-explained what happened when Reid was admitted as she took them up to his room. When they got there, Reid did not look good at all. His usually vibrant red hair was dull and he was a sickly pale, almost blue. He was a skinny as every but his eyes were sunken with fatigue. They had him attached to a ventilator as well as other devices monitoring his health. No one had seen him in worse a shape. “How long has he been out?” Sydryn asked, lifting the doctor's limp hand. “Since he was admitted,” Aoife answered. “No one's been able to wake him.” Sydryn checked Reid's eyes which had rolled back under the lids, and then his mouth which was rather dry. “Has he been carrying on with those occult experiments of his?” “Of course…” Aoife said. “He keeps getting funded…” Sydryn started to strip the doctor down, first examining his muscle mass and then noticing the tattoo under his navel. They rubbed over it with their thumb and grimaced. “You've got to be kidding me… Permanent invitation to be possessed.” Sydryn backed off, and pushed the angel forward. “Köbi, take a look.” “Oh, um… Hello,” Köbi said first waving to Aoife. “I'm Köbi.” “I gathered. Can you help him?” Aoife asked. “I can try,” Köbi said. “Toiling with the after life is serious business, you see… It's complicated and hard to determine the affects on the human body…” Köbi placed a hand over Reid's heart and closed his eyes. “…This body is very damaged… No sleep… No food… Not to mention his soul…His soul is deeply scarred.” “Scarred soul?” Aoife frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?” “It means what it means,” Köbi tried to explain. “A soul can be damaged just like a body. I've never seen anything like this though. Whatever he's been doing should've killed him by now, but he's managed to avoid bodily harm by putting it on his soul… But finally his body has caught up to it and gave out.” “What are you trying to say then?” Aoife asked. “He's going to die?” “He could, I won't lie to you,” Köbi said. “What does he do? How'd he get like this?” “He's been researching ghosts,” Aoife explained. “He got that tattoo because it, um… Well, it lets him get knocked up by ghosts.” “Really?” Köbi pulled his hand away and looked disgusted. “That's absurdly irresponsible! You can't muddle in the affairs of the dead like that! You're just asking to be damned!” “He spends all night working on it,” Aoife went on. “I haven't seen him sleep in weeks. I haven't seen him eat. I figured he was when I just wasn't around…” “No, this body hasn't seen food or sleep in at least a month,” Köbi stated. “Does he take any medication?” “Testosterone, dietary supplements, antipsychotic medication,” Aoife listed. “There are almost no traces of any of those in his system,” Köbi stated. “There's caffeine though. Honestly, he should be dead. I can't even tell what’s keeping him alive.” “Can you do anything?” Aoife asked. “Hmm…” Köbi rubbed Reid's chest in circles. “I think I can wake him up…” His hand started to glow and he placed it on Reid's forehead. The spot where he touched was shone blue for a second or two before fading. Reid suddenly jolted forward and his eyes flew wide awake as he cried out. “Angel!” Sydryn and Aoife drew sighs of relief. Köbi smiled and pat his shoulder. “Rest, Dr. Gardi,” he stated. “What…” Reid blinked at Köbi and then rubbed his eyes, with a shaky hand. “You… An angel. Am I dead?” “Mostly, yeah,” Köbi admitted. “Köbi,” Sydryn snapped, slapping the angel at the back of his head. “Reid, you're not dead. You've neglected your health for the sake of your research and you almost became the ghosts you've been researching. You've been in a coma for three days. So you're going to stay here until you make a full recovery and I am going to run the hospital wing at APID from this time.” “Syd… I cannae just lie here…” Reid murmured. “I'm so close. I actually…I think I saw him…” “Who?” “The soldier…the one that comes back, over an' over…” Reid placed a hand over his stomach. “…I have a boyfriend.” Sydryn rolled their eyes. “Köbi, put him to sleep for now. I'll look over his research and see what he's done to himself…” “My research? No, you can't—” Reid was cut off when Köbi touched his forehead again and he immediately fell back into sleep. Sydryn sighed. “When he took up this research, I didn’t think he'd go this far… I thought you were keeping an eye on him.” Aoife put her hands on her hips. “I tried. He's grown man. What was I supposed to do, force feed him his medication? Strap him into bed? I have a life too.” “Well, I'll monitor him I suppose…” Sydryn stated. “Tomorrow morning, we'll have him transported back to APID. Aoife, you should take a few days off, I think. Köbi will assist me.” “Don't mean to be rude, but are you even a medical professional?” Aoife asked the angel. “No, not really… But I can help people,” Köbi said. “As long as Syd tells me what to do, I'm alright.” Sydryn placed a hand on Aoife's shoulder. “You need to take a break. Reid has caused you too much stress. Relax. Spend some time with your girlfriend. I'll need you back soon, but you do need time.” Aoife sighed. “You're right… I've spent too much time being this stupid fool's mother…” She pushed Reid's hair out of his face and fluffed his pillow. “Alright, I'm done.” “Good.” Sydryn looked to Aoife and smiled. “Honestly, I have to thank you for calling me. I didn’t think I’d ever have a good reason to leave that god forsaken hell hole.” “Don’t mention it. We needed you,” Aoife said. “How’s my brother?” “I’m pretty sure his massages made one of my guests fall in love with him,” Sydryn stated. Aoife nodded. “Sounds like Aodhán…” She fixed her hair and grabbed her bag. “Alright, I’m heading out. Good luck with the Scot.” “Thank you. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be taking good care of him.” “Good. Good night.” “Night.”

[timeagainreviews]

The Fabric of Time and Space

Hello friends! It's been quite a busy time for me. Not only did we have a houseguest for about a week, we got a dog! She's an adopted Irish greyhound named Aoife, and she's a good old girl. Needless to say, lots of things happening. I wanted to write sooner so that I could talk about the death of Terrance Dicks, but finding the time was difficult. While Dicks was a bit of an old school writer when it came to women, I absolutely love "The Horror of Fang Rock." However, one of the things for which Dicks was most beloved was his Doctor Who prose. Whether it be the Target novels, or even the BBC range, chances are that if you've read much Doctor Who prose, you've read some Terrance Dicks. Which is why I plan to do something I've never done on here, and that's to review a Doctor Who novel, specifically- The Eight Doctors. Mind you, I'm going to re-read it, just after I finish these Dark Crystal books.

Speaking of Dark Crystal, how many of you have been watching the new prequel? I've been a bit obsessed, myself. It's captured my imagination in a way I haven't felt in years. For those of you not in the know, I was born in the far off year of 1983, just one year after "The Dark Crystal," entered theatres. However, it wasn't until around 1994 that I even became aware it existed. I remember this because the night I bought two Flintstones movie books, there was a display for "The Dark Crystal," in enticingly green Disney style VHS cases. All of these things released around 1994. I was perplexed by this Jim Henson movie that somehow went completely under my radar. I took my books home that night. The Dark Crystal would have to wait a bit longer.

One of the things I loved most about my copy of "The Flintstones: The Official Movie Book," was the pictures of the Jim Henson Creature Workshop fabricating the dinosaur puppets. Something about their ability to create something realistic while still looking like a cartoon resonated with me. I wanted so much to do that job. Since then I've always had a passion for filmmaking and movie magic. Watching "The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance," has rekindled that childhood love I have for the Creature Workshop and character design. As per usual, this got me thinking about Doctor Who. Specifically, its costume design. So I thought I might keep it simple and talk about the costumes of each Doctor. Where better to start than at William Hartnell?

First Doctor

Style: "Edwardian Grandad"

To me, the First Doctor will always look the most like the Doctor the first time we see him in "An Unearthly Child." Topped with an Astrakhan hat and shrouded in a black cape, he cuts a mysterious figure framed by the door of the TARDIS. His costume was a team effort between Maureen Heneghan and William Hartnell who was adamant as to what he would and would not wear. The decision was to make him slightly Edwardian, as the time period would look somewhat out of place, yet not too far removed from the 1960's.

There's something delightfully camp and yet simple to the way he dresses. Nothing about his wardrobe seems out of place. Even his slightly manky fingerless gloves make sense for an old traveller twisting knobs and flicking switches on his fantastical machine. Sometimes leaning on a cane, and other times standing tall holding onto his lapels with his dark ring glinting against the light. He's an enigma and just a touch out of time.

Second Doctor

Style: "Cosmic Hobo"

When the 60's counterculture movement had started to shake up the status quo, we saw learned men like Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert abandon their stuffy collegiate positions for newfound roles as acid gurus. Much like these wild professors, we see the same thing in the Second Doctor's attire. It's as if the First Doctor partied so hard that he regenerated, and his disheveled clothes were whatever he was wearing when he woke up the next morning.

At the time, we had men like Maharishi Mahesh Yogi popularising words like "cosmic," and I believe it caught on in the Doctor Who production offices. Costumers Daphne Dare and Alexandra Tynman really brought a sort of anarchic spirit to the Doctor's attire that I believe has really carried on throughout the series. While I'm glad the stove pipe hat was annexed early on, I loved the additions of things like his giant fur coat held closed with twine. There's something so very Doctory about a man who looks like he sleeps in boxcars that can also attune his mind to build a perfect white cube. He really is far out, man.

Third Doctor

Style: "Space Dandy"

I've heard it said that there are two men that can pull off ruffles- Jimi Hendrix, and Jon Pertwee. And my god, does he ever? Primarily designed by Christine Rawlins, he was influenced by Adam Adamant's wardrobe. However, the biggest inspiration behind his crushed velvet and scarlet lined capes was colour television! Colour! Colour! Colour!

There's a lot of timeliness tied up in his garb. The increasing abundance of colour TV mixed with a post-60's desire to cut loose. This new night-time apparel was a way for gents to relax after a long day in their office suits. Leave it to the alien time traveller to completely ignore this fact and wear said nightwear in the middle of the day. Not only does the Third Doctor introduce a trend of the Doctor stealing his clothes from hospitals, he also marks the first major shift in apparel. The First and Second Doctors may have worn different ties, or trousers, but their overall look remained consistent. The Third Doctor's look adhered more to a wardrobe, or a style of dress. And boy does he have style!

Fourth Doctor

Style: "The Bohemian"

Once again, we see a continuation here of the style of the previous two Doctors. There's a bookishness, mixed with counterculture. Costume designer James Acheson, based a lot of the Fourth Doctor's look on Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s painting of his friend Aristide Bruant. Bruant was a man known for his wide brimmed hat and long scarf. As legend has it, Acheson commissioned a woman named Begonia Pope to knit the famous scarf. Only instead of stopping at a sensible length, this witty little knitter used every last spool of yarn she was provided.

As much as I love Tom Baker's costume in it's versatility and appropriate alienness, I am less a fan of the series 18 redesign by June Hudson, which was notoriously meddled with by John Nathan-Turner. While I rather like the new scarf, the all burgundy ensemble with question mark lapels seems to me like the first time the costume felt like a costume. That being said, there is something timeless about Tom Baker's look that even carries on into its various redesigns such as in "The Talons of Weng-Chiang," or "The Horror of Fang Rock." So much so, that even today if I go out in my Thirteenth Doctor cosplay, you always get some joker saying "Hey, where's your scarf?"

Fifth Doctor

Style: "Beige Cricketer Dad"

Before I had ever watched the Fifth Doctor's episodes, I used to look at his costume and contemplate what kind of guy would dress like that. The cricketer uniform with that red piped coat, and those garish pinstripe pyjamas over white trainers is a definite statement, but what is up with that celery? You can imagine my further confusion when I discovered Davison's portrayal was slightly more subdued and less eccentric. It made him almost the weirdest Doctor in that such a normal seeming guy would dress like his five year old picked out his clothes.

Hell, even the celery is there for a pretty mundane reason. It changes purple in the presence of certain poisonous gases. Very practical. They didn't even illustrate this purpose, we were told about it in his last episode! And you know how I feel about "show, don't tell." Regardless, I can't help but kind of love this outfit, question marks and all. I don't know if it's because I'm a fan and we grow to love this show, warts and all, but there's a reason it's on my list of costumes to cosplay. It's unmistakably the Fifth Doctor, even if it doesn't really make much sense.

Sixth Doctor

Style: "Hot Alien Mess"

Out of all of the Doctor Who costumes, I don't think a single one has been more notorious than this one. Unlike the Fifth Doctor's costume which piqued my curiosity, my initial thoughts upon seeing the Sixth Doctor's costume was "Well that was a mistake." And I wasn't wrong, it definitely was too much. Though in many ways, it also marries so well with the rest of his tenure. John Nathan-Turner's goal was to have a completely tasteless costume to match his tasteless vision for the show. He gave poor Pat Godfrey the thankless task of bringing this monstrosity to the screen.

Though, like I said, you do get used to it, as it does fit Colin Baker's irascible narcissist. I totally believe that an alien might find something like that fashionable. Even his little cat badges on his lapels inspire something I think is essential to his character. He's a big loud tomcat yowling until people stop what they're doing and recognise his brilliance. This is another one of those "I can't help but want to cosplay it," outfits. I especially like his tropical look in "The Two Doctors." It would have been nice to see more this variation in his run, such as the original black design or even the blue one we got in other media. Sigh.

Seventh Doctor

Style: "Tweedy Eccentric"

Remember how I mentioned in previous articles that the Seventh Doctor era was a series of course corrections? This is a definite one of those. We're back to something a lot more subtle, like the First or Fourth Doctor's eccentric professor vibes. But my god, those question marks just won't die! You ever have one of those friends who just can't help themselves? You can give them good advice, but at the end of the day, they're still going to do things their way? That's JNT with these goddamn question marks.

I really love the Seventh Doctor's era as I feel like the show was on the up and up. The writing was getting back on track, and Ace and Seven's chemistry was brilliant. So when you look at the Doctor's jumper, it's a kind of visible evidence of JNT being dragged kicking and screaming into this new era. Yet, funnily, when we see the Eighth Doctor movie, the Seventh Doctor's new waistcoat seems somehow less exciting. There's a certain playfulness sacrificed for realism. Perhaps JNT was onto something with his campy vision.

Eighth Doctor

Style: "Anne Rice Vampire Boyfriend"

It's going to be hard for me to view this costume without rose-tinted glasses. The Eighth Doctor is my first Doctor, so his costume will always have a place in my heart as one of the greats. But which costume? Well, of course I mean the first one from the TV movie, but my god has the man had some costume changes! Be it book, comic, or audio, the man has changed his clothes. My favourite being the unjustly maligned "Dark Eyes," variant, as I had always wondered why the Doctor never wore jeans.

Marking the second time the Doctor stole his wardrobe from a hospital, his original costume, designed by Jori Woodman, seems geared toward evoking a more classic look. A little Hartnell, a little Pertwee. For the most part it works, but I could see the argument some have made that it is a bit "costumey." In its defence, it is a costume. By the time we see McGann again in "The Night of the Doctor," we get a more subdued version of the movie look, befitting the modern series. Gotta love a man who can pull off a neckerchief.

War Doctor

Style: "Metrosexual Post-Apocalyptic"

Sadly, there's not a lot of information on the War Doctor's ensemble. But I believe you can learn a lot simply by looking at it. It's design by Howard Burden (who also did the Eighth Doctor redesign), is meant to be a sort of dark in-between of the Eighth and Ninth Doctors. Which makes a lot of sense, really. His costume looks like the clothing of a man at war. Utilitarian in it's form an function, it looks designed for durability and versatility.

I've often felt the War Doctor would not look out of place in the Fallout universe. He still wears the bandolier of a woman he couldn't save in a previous life. So much of his costume is meant to tell a visual story of a Mad Max-style road warrior. Funny then that the man still has the time to form the perfect faux-hawk coiffure and manscaped goatee with just the right amount of neckbeard. It's more of that visual storytelling I love so much- the Doctor may be a man lost at war, but he's still a bit of a narcissist. Brilliant.

Ninth Doctor

Style: "Navvy Bloke"

Christopher Eccleston has been in the news a lot these last few days due to the release of his new book "I Love the Bones of You." We've learned so much about his time as the Doctor that talking about the look of his character has become a bit of a tough subject. A lot of the man's look is now intrinsically tied in his body dysmorphia, which was at its worst when in the role as the Doctor.

I say it's "tough," in that I do want to talk about how he looked like no other Doctor Who came before him. His northern bloke look and sound almost dared the audience to reevaluate the Doctor they thought they knew. His costume is almost a non-costume. Black leather on black trousers with an assortment of dark coloured v-neck jumpers were a far cry from the question marks and long scarves of the Doctors before. Yet despite all of these differences, he quickly dispelled any doubts many longtime viewers had. He was the perfect Doctor to breathe new life into the show. These last few days have shown us just how lucky we are to still have such a man with us.

Tenth Doctor

Style: "Hipster Geek"

People often times call Matt Smith's Doctor a hipster. But who's the one wearing horn rimmed glasses and Chuck Taylors with a form fitting suit? You want to talk about first impressions from a photograph, my first thought was "hipster geek." And I love him for it. David Tennant's Doctor is such a charismatic goofball, that it's hard not to love him. And I honestly can't think of a better costume for him. I will say however that I think this one falls under that "costumey," look I've mentioned before. There's something very Scooby-Doo about a guy who owns two of the same suit in reverse colour.

I also love the simple fact that he's wearing actual Chuck Taylors. I'm surprised more Doctors haven't. Even with the logos on the sides whited out, you can spot the real McCoy (or Tennant) a mile away. Top all of this off with that marvellous coat of his, and you've got a real super hero look. Just picture it- his coat blowing in the breeze as it clings to his matchstick frame, his hair and eyes trembling with Time Lord fury. He's iconic as hell and it's no wonder he's caught the hearts and minds of so many fans.

Eleventh Doctor

Style: "Young Old Man"

I absolutely love Matt Smith's Doctor, especially his early look with the tweed and floppy hair. Ray Holm really came out swinging with this costume as it bred countless one-liners about his bow-ties and love for a good fez. If you've ever seen pictures of other Eleventh Doctor costume concepts, you'd realise what a stroke of genius that bowtie really was. He just doesn't look like the Doctor without it. I believe it was Smith himself who suggested the bowtie.

I would not say I am as onboard with the later purple suit the Doctor wore with Clara. It just lacked the subtlety of the tweed. And that top hat looked especially out of place, which is funny when you consider how good the black top hat looked on him in "Let's Kill Hitler." While I would not say the purple ensemble was a total failure, it's got nothing on his original look. Which, if you'll recall, was also stolen from a hospital.

Twelfth Doctor

Style: "Punk Magician"

Peter Capaldi is the first Doctor I ever had to wait to see the costume reveal. I had gotten into Doctor Who around the tail end of Matt Smith's first series. I remember my first reaction to Howard Burden's costume being something like "Huh." I didn't really love it. Perhaps it was the mixture of it being new, and not having already been established as the Doctor's clothes, but I was slow to come around to it. Capaldi's inspiration behind the costume was David Bowie's "Thin White Duke," persona, which is a telling bit of inspiration considering what a dark point it was in Bowie's life.

For me, the Twelfth Doctor's look truly comes together over time. I think it's somehow tied to his hair. The wilder it got, the more I liked his look. I absolutely love the hoodies and the First Doctor inspired trousers. There's something so perfect about a black jumper bespeckled with holes allowing the white shirt beneath to shine through like stars. The cosmic hobo is back in a punk rock fashion. There's something very lived in about the Twelfth Doctor's style that really resonates with me. He may be the eldest Doctor of the modern series (unless you count John Hurt), but there is something undeniably youthful about him

Thirteenth Doctor

Style: "Godspell Casual"

Jodie's costume was another one of those "Huh," moments for me. It was such a departure from anything before it, bar maybe the Ninth Doctor's jumpers. However, it only took me a few days to get used to, as compared to multiple episodes with Capaldi. A female Doctor was something I had pondered over for such a long time, that I had some expectations as to what she should and shouldn't be wearing. I definitely wanted her in sensible footwear and no floofy skirts. I wanted her like an adventurer. Think Rachel Weisz in "The Mummy." So when she showed up with a pair of high water trousers and comfortable boots, I was pretty happy. It was her t-shirt I was most taken aback by. It seemed a little more casual than I expected, but when you consider she's been a bloke her entire life, having no nonsense clothes is very much the Doctor.

It's not hard to imagine why this was the second Doctor I've cosplayed (the other being Four). There's lots of symbolism tied into the coat that Ray Holm and Whittaker devised together, and I love that they put that much thought into it. At this point it's still early days in her character. Aside from a blink and you miss it scarf or a red shirt, we've not seen a whole lot of wardrobe variation. Rumour has it she'll be donning a pair of black trousers is series 12, which I'm all for. I'd also love to see her wear some grey checked trousers like Hartnell and Troughton. Or even a black and white version of her current look. There's so much versatility possible in her costume. I hope they explore a bit of it.

And that's it for now, friends. I hope you enjoyed this article. I tried to put a little bit of research into it. While I was writing it, this blog turned one year old! I can't believe I've been doing this for a whole year! It's such a wonderful sight to see when you all like the posts and share them. Knowing I've resonated with someone like yourselves feels a little less lonely. Expect to see a Sixth Doctor review corresponding with his blu-ray (I missed the Third Doctor Blu-ray/Pertwee 100th birthday). I'm also planning on covering "The Edge of Time," VR game if they ever decide to release it! Oh and I might start covering the Dark Crystal as well, because I really love that show. I hope you are having a great weekend!

[dancerlittle006]

James + Josie - Chapter 4

Many, many thanks to @fromherlips, who this chapter wouldn’t have been possible without her many encouragements - simply saying thank you will never be enough.

Read Previous Chapters Here

DECEMBER 2018

He had surprised her with tickets to Ireland (a bucket list item of hers) with the sole purpose of going back to visit his family. He hung his head as he mentioned he hadn't been back in almost six months. His mother had been harping on him to come back to visit before the holidays. So early December was the best time between his schedule and hers.

But there was something he failed to mention in his plan to get her to Ireland. “I didn't let my family know I was bringing you along.”

Her eyes went wide at the nonchalant comment. She lowered her book, turning her attention to him. “You didn't tell anyone?”

“Not a soul.” He grinned. “You would think a heads up would be a great thing. However, with the Horans, they'd be blowing up me damn phone wanting to know every single thing about you and I'd rather they get to know you from the expert, rather than me.”

Emmy shook her head. “So, you didn't want to brag about me and let your family know I was coming so they'd be surprised when you show up with me?”

“I mean,” he grinned, hoping he could get out of it.

Tapping the golfer’s cap on his head, she dipped her head to place her lips on his. “You're lucky you're cute, James.”

She turned back to her book, getting swept up in the love life of the main characters.

She got a few pages in before noticing his hand on her thigh. A few minutes later, his hand was on her forearm. His feathery-light touch on her arm distracted her from Kate and her detective work.

Raising an eyebrow in his direction, “Can I help you?”

“Pay attention to me, Ems,” he whined, giving her a puppy dog look.

Placing her bookmarker in the book and closing with a quiet thump, she placed it in her bag before turning her full attention towards him. “You have my undivided attention.”

He had to laugh at her monotone, leaning over and capturing her lips in a kiss. “We only have twenty minutes until we land.”

“So what’s the plan when we land?”

Lacing his fingers with hers, he squeezed them, growing quiet. “We’ll hop on the train then it’s an hour ride to ma’s house. From there, god knows what that woman has planned. As she only knows I’m coming, she’s going to go crazy seein’ you.”

“Geez thanks.” The words rolled off her tongue before she could stop them. “At least this has to be better than how you met my parents.”

Squeezing her hand again, he knew she was still hurt by how her mother had treated her that day. “Have you heard from them at all?”

“No. And I honestly don’t expect to. I’ve been exiled from the family and I’m sure mom didn’t shy away from telling every single person she knew about what went down.” She sighed. “I’ve got my family in you, my siblings and friends. I’ll be fine.”

He hated that she thought she had to put on a brave face with him. “If ya wanna be pissed, be pissed love. Don’t hide it from me.”

“I’m just sad that she didn’t hear how I felt - she just saw the dollar signs that he could bring to the family. She didn’t care about my happiness or my quality of life.” Giving him a slight smile, she shrugged her shoulders. “I’m still dealing with it and it’ll be her loss.”

Kissing her forehead, he sighed. “I'll be your crying shoulder, I'll be the greatest fan of your life.”

He crooned one of her favorite songs, never getting enough of his voice. Since she learned of his singing abilities, he would sing random songs and tunes around her apartment and out and about.

Landing was a quiet affair. They gathered their belongings, heading towards the adjacent train station. He bought tickets, much to her dismay, and a hot cocoa, while waiting for the 9:05 train. He stood behind her, hand on her lip, kissing her the side of her head, watching the trains chug in and out of the station.

“Wanna know something?” She cranked her head, looking back at him. She didn't wait for a reply, “I wanted to be a conductor when I was little. I was fascinated by trains and have always loved traveling on them and watching them chug through the town. I was that girl who never was annoyed getting stopped by a passing train; I've always loved them.”

He hugged her closer to his body. “I thought I saw your eyes glow brighter when I mentioned we'd take the train. A conductor, huh? Well I know what to get you for Christmas.”

“What's that?” His excitement was contagious.

Kissing her cheek, he chuckled. “A conductor’s hat.”

A blush swept her cheeks, eyes falling towards the ground. “I've got one already. My brother and sister threw me a big train themed party last year. Train cake, conductor’s hat, and a full train and track for my apartment. In fact, last year, it ran around my Christmas tree.”

“Well I guess I’ll need to be more creative.” Their train has arrived. Watching the passengers disembark, he tilted his head in her direction. “Where’s the ultimate place to sit on a train?”

Emmy giggled, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know - as long as I’m on the train, I’ll be happy.”

Niall tugged her hand, leading her to the middle of the train. With their suitcases stored, he picked two seats before collapsing in one with a sigh. He quickly typed something out on his phone, storing it in his pocket with a grin. “Sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.”

Grabbing her book out of her bag, she relaxed against the window, getting lost in the book. She read the majority of the trip, only lifting her head to look out the window when she felt the train brake. Barely registering that Niall was beside her, she was happy feeling the motion of the train and getting caught up in the story she read.

Three chapters passed before Niall nudged her. “We're getting close, love. Get ready to be hugged and kissed many time.”

Before that, the nerves were pretty tame. She was excited to meet his family, yet there were some butterflies that fluttered. “I'm a little nervous.”

He met her eyes at the confession. “Awe babe, you've got nothing to be nervous about. Ma and Chris will love you as will da. Those are the only ones that absolutely have to love you and they will I have no doubt.”

“You sure?”

Niall chuckled. “Josie, one day I'll get you to see how incredible you are. The only ones you've got to worry about is Greg and Denise but I'm not sure if we'll even see ‘em.”

The conversation was dropped when the train pulled into the station. She took a few seconds to ensure she had gathered everything in preparation of disembarking. “Ma said she'd met us in the car park.”

Linking hands with him, Emmy followed Niall off the train. The clicks of her boots on the pavement was the only thing she focused on until she saw Niall’s face lit up setting his eyes on his mum. She dropped his hand, allowing him to drop his bag, giving her a hug.

“Oh my boy, it's so good to see ya.” She squeezed him tight before stepping back and taking him in. “It's been too long Niall James.”

Emmy snickered, hearing his mum full name him, drawing Niall and his mum’s attention to her. “Quit your laughing, Bennett.” Niall teased, pulling her closer to him. “Mum, this is Emmaline, or Emmy. Em, this is my mum Maura.”

Maura stepped forward, opening her arms for a hug. Emmy stepped in, feeling the warmth of a mother’s hug. “It’s so nice to meet you. This bugger won't shut up about you when I do get him on the phone.”

“It's nice to meet you too; however, I feel as if I don't know much about you or your family.” Motioning to Niall, she smiled. “This one doesn't open up much.”

Maura locked her arms with Emmy’s, winked at her son, before leading her towards the car. “We'll just have to change that these next few days.”

Three Days Later

The previous three days had been filled with family activities. Emmy had met the rest of Niall’s family, getting along wonderfully with his cousin, Aoife, who spilled many stories of the younger days of Niall and his other cousins. They had also gone searching through a Christmas tree farm searching for the “perfect” tree, according to Maura Horan. She was pulled into a snowball fight by no other than her boyfriend. She could still hear his boisterous laughter when he nailed her square in the chest. She had retaliated, running full steam into him, pushing them both into the snow. They had both ended up in stitches, causing Maura and Chris to shake their heads and join in the laughter.

Emmy had spent some time baking in the kitchen with Maura. As she poured the chocolate chips into the batter, Maura confessed how happy Niall had found her. During that time, she called Emmy the daughter she never had and Emmy had never felt more love from a mother.

And last night, Emmy had finally met the man Niall had called Da, Bobby Horan.  He pulled Emmy into a tight hug, and with a Guinness in hand, welcomed her into the family. She had gotten some more stories out of Bobby, all while he hugged her close to his side and didn’t let her out of his sight the entire night.

Hugging a mug of coffee (much to Niall’s disbelief, she wasn’t a tea drinker), she stared out of the window at the snow covered garden and sighed in contentment. Her book was disregarded on the desk while she was curled up in the overstuff chair thinking about the last few days.

Seeing Niall with his family was bittersweet. She loved seeing him interact with his cousins, especially the younger ones, all while not knowing when she would see her mom, dad, aunts, and uncles again. She had gossiped with his cousins and wished her own siblings were there to join in the activities.

“Hey.” Emmy was knocked out of her thoughts by Niall standing in the doorway, looking at her with a curious look. “You ok?”

“Just enjoying the quiet and watching the snow fall.” She smiled. “You startled me. Where have you been?”

Taking a seat in the chair next to her, he grinned. “Spending some time with ma and Chris. They were filling me on things I had missed around the town. Why are you down here all by yourself? Something bothering you?”

Emmy turned back to the window, efficiently ignoring his question. “Emmy, talk to me. I know something has been off since we landed but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it.”

She heard him sigh, scooting closer to the edge of the chair. “Darling, it’s just me. Talk to me.”

Taking another sip of her coffee, she shifted in the chair to look at him. She took his hand in hers, looking towards the ground. “I’ve been watching you with your family and it’s hit a little close to home.”

It was hard for him to hear her whisper, though the words had barely gotten to his ears. “Awww babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”

He was quiet, not really knowing what comfort her could bring to her. Grabbing her hand, he gave it a squeeze, and a gentle smile. “What can I do? I’m sorry you’ve been feeling left out.”

“But that’s the thing, I haven’t been left out,” she sighed, looking at him. “If anything it makes me feel bad that my family are the one that will be missing out. Mom’s the one that has done this to herself and that she won’t see me or my siblings until she apologizes. She’s the one I’ve been sorry for.”

Emmy laughed with bitterness. “Your mother has been more like a mother to me in these last few days than my mother ever was. She has hugged me more times than my mom did in the last two years.”

Before she knew it, there were tears flowing down her face. Emmy didn’t know why she was crying, just that there were tears. Niall pulled her from the chair, brought her into a hug, before rubbing his hand slowly up and down her back. “Please don’t cry. She’s not worth your tears.”

“You don’t understand.” She sniffled against his shoulder with a short laugh. “You’ve got the perfect family yet you don’t understand why I’m crying.”

He chuckled. “Do you know why you’re crying?”

“No!” She pulled back, wiping the tears away. “But I’m sure it has to do with the fact that I’m sure I’ve got to rebuild my family and being in yours makes me belong to something.”

Niall leaned in, kissed her cheek before grinning. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to create our own family. Willie and Deo will soon become the brothers you wish you had but never wanted. Aoife and Katie will become the gossiping cousins you wish would go away. My ma, Chris, and da will become your surrogate parents. You have your brother and sister who will round out the merry ‘ole gang. You’ve got a family, you just have to rediscover them for yourself.”

“What do I do about these feelings I have? How do I get past them, old wise one?” Emmy sniffled, then grinned in Niall’s direction.

“Hakuna Matata, Ain't no passing craze It means no worries, For the rest of your days, It's our problem-free philosophy.” A giggled passed her lips hearing one of her favorite songs sung by one of her favorite guys.

Shaking her head, she threw her head back laughing. “Your advice is to have no worries. Real convincing there, Horan.”

“Sorry that was the first song to pop into my head.” He cleared his throat. “Let me see if I can do something better.”

Niall gave her a silly look before singing the next song. “If I could, Baby I'd give you my world, Open up, Everything's waiting for you, You can go your own way.”

“Should’ve known you’d throw in Fleetwood Mac.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you for giving me some sage advice.”

Niall shrugged his shoulders. “You want more? There’s a few songs I know that might help.”

“Sure. What do you have in your arsenal of song lyrics?”

The next one he sang surprised her. “And now I'm glad I didn't know, The way it all would end, the way it all would go, Our lives are better left to chance, I could have missed the pain, But I'd have had to miss the dance.”

“I’m impressed Horan. Didn’t know you had Garth Brooks’ country in you.” She wiped the stray tears away as he retorted by sticking his tongue out at her. “And I’m dating a two year old.”

Niall laughed. “Hey I’m at least three years old on a good day. Get your facts straight woman.”

“My apologies mister.” She kissed his cheek while he huffed in annoyance. “Any more songs?”

He held up a finger to which she leaned forward to kiss. “One more.”

“Just know you’re not alone, 'Cause I’m going to make this place your home.”

His singing did the opposite as it had been doing; the tears were back, though this time, happier tears than before. “Niall James . . .”

“Uh oh . . . is this one of those times I’m in trouble because you just double named me?” Fear crossed his face followed by the pouty face he wore when he was sorry something had happened.

She giggled, wiping the tears away, letting her eyes rest on him. “This is one of those moments where you’re the sweetest boyfriend in the world.”

He visibly relaxed, a goofy smile stretching across his lips. “Love you, Em.”

“Love you too.” Their lips met in a kiss, that was too soon interrupted by the buzz of the doorbell.

They heard Maura answer the door, speaking to whomever was on the other side. Emmy took a glance at Niall, who’s face had turned sour by the voice at the door. “Niall?”

“Stay here Emmy. Promise me, you’ll stay here.” She quickly nodded, watching him walk down the hall towards the door.

Emmy heard the voices grow louder, while she gripped the mug tighter in her hands. She heard Niall, who rarely raised his voice, growing louder with every passing word. Several minutes passed, the voices continued to grow, Emmy finally growing tired of the argument, placed the mug on the desk before walking down the hallway, her soft footfalls barely heard over the screaming.

Her eyes went wide taking in the sight in the entryway. Niall and Maura were facing a man and a woman, Niall’s stance was anything but friendly. Looking between Niall and the man, she guess that was his brother. Emmy knew there was some tension between the two but she hadn’t prodded him to find out more.

Leaning against the wall, she took everything in, not comprehending the words that were being thrown between the two men. Anger spewed from Niall’s mouth, his hands moving a mile a minute, and his stance protecting his dear mother from anything that his brother would do.

“Oh look, you brought a girl home.” The words flew from his brother’s mouth, causing the four occupants to turn their attention towards her.

Niall’s eyes went wide, seeing her standing there and in that moment, she should’ve actually listened to him and stayed in the living room. “She has nothing to do with this Greg. Leave her out of it.”

“You mean you don’t want her to know that you actually have a brother who has a family? What are you protecting her from?” His brother spat, taking his eyes off Emmy for a moment and redirecting them towards Niall. “You’re not usually the one to keep secrets, Niall.”

Emmy pushed herself off the wall, making her way to Niall’s side. “Actually I know more about you than you think I do. Niall has been very forthcoming regarding you and has told me the history. And frankly, I had no desire to meet you.”

Her hand found Niall’s, squeezing it, glaring at the man. “At the moment, I know you came in here hootin’ and hollerin’ and disturbing our afternoon. Now I believe Maura and Niall asked you to leave several minutes ago, so I’m not exactly sure why you’re still standing here thinking you’re welcomed. To be honest, no one wants you here.”

Niall smirked, listening to Emmy speak, with little respect, towards his brother, who had always been jealous and green with envy at the success Niall had obtained. Greg always blamed Niall for every little thing that had happened to him, his wife, and child. “You heard her Greg, no one wants you here. Now please leave so we can get along with our afternoon. I wish to see you at better circumstances but we’re through here.”

“Come along, dear, I can see we’re no longer welcome here.” Taking his wife’s hand in his, he gave Niall a look. “I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you but I don’t want to waste my breathe.”

Emmy squeezed Niall’s hand watching Greg stomp through the front door. Niall slammed the door behind him, looking between Emmy and his mum. “I’m sorry ma.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She paused. “I’m sorry, Emmy, that you had to witness that.”

She gave Maura a shaky smile. “Please don’t apologize. He’s gone and we can get on with our afternoon.”

“I’m going to go finish getting ready and we can leave soon.” Maura hugged Niall first followed by Emmy before escaping upstairs.

Emmy’s eyes watched her leave, before turning her attention to Niall. “You ok?”

He didn’t speak for several seconds, simply squeezed her hand. “I hate him sometimes.”

“We all hate our siblings at times.” She smiled sadly. “There are several moments I can think of that I hate mine.”

Niall shook his head. “This is bigger than that. He’s been jealous of me since I joined the band and instead of just dealing with it, he lashes out and causes a big ruckus.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell anyone I was coming with you?” Emmy connected the dots pretty quickly, giving Niall a look. “Because if so, then it all makes sense.”

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed the side of her head, sighing loudly. “I guess we all have to have the black sheep in the family and Greg is ours. He’s exhausting and always want everything without the work. He’s green with envy that his little brother has it all without doing seemingly none of the work.”

“You work your arse off and deserve everything that you have currently. You don’t sit back and everything comes to you. Everything that you have, is rightly deserved due to the hard work and dedication you put into work.” Emmy stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips. “I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

He kissed her, not knowing what to say. He pulled her into his arms and just held her. Sighing, he pulled away. “Thank you for just knowing what to say.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too Em.”

She started humming, pulling him into her arms, swaying slowly, their bodies moving to the tune.  “What are you humming?”

“It’s stuck in my head.” Emmy murmured, surprised at him spinning her. “I don’t know what song it is.”

She continued to hum, watching his face to see if he recognized the song. His eyes lit up in recognition.

“Pay attention, I hope that you listen cause I let my guard down, Right now I'm completely defenseless, For your eyes only, I show you my heart, For when you're lonely and forget who you are”  His crooner voice sang only to her, causing goosebumps to form up her arm.

He continues to hum, twirling her around the foyer. Niall dipped her, causing her to squeal in surprised, making him pause in his humming, to crack up laughing. “I hate you Niall Horan.”

He sidestepped her swat in his direction. He was still laughing, seeing his mum come down the stairs. “What’s all this racket?”

“Your son is an arse.” Emmy shook her head, her hand finally making connection with his arm.

Niall frowned, both from her statement and the slap. “Hey now, as someone who just sang to you, I’m an arse? I see how it is. Maybe I’ll stop singing to you?”

Emmy’s eyes went wide. “Ok I take it back. Please don’t stop singing to me. You’re not an arse.”

The day continued, the family putting the disturbance from that morning out of their minds. They visited a pub followed by a tour of the town by the most famous resident. Emmy laughed at the ridiculous stories Niall told her about the residents.

And as he told her the stories, Emmy could start to imagine a future with him, him telling those stories to their children as he put them to bed. The thought was comforting and made her happy.

So family drama, huh? Have to love when families aren’t always perfect.

What did you think? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

[angelofdirewolves]

Underneath the Stars Part 4

Rating: M

Word Count: 2194

Art by @sagelynaive

The first few days were, as Keith would later reflect, surprisingly not as awkward as they could have been. It seemed that the other Paladins and the Alteans were either able to forget or ignore the fact that Keith had lied to them as long as he’d known them and that Jenny was related to Zarkon. 

Things settled into a pattern, where in the morning Jenny, Pidge, Hunk, and Coran when he couldn’t be spared from Castle-Ship repairs, would head down to the Green Lion’s Hanger. It had essentially become Pidge’s lab since the day that the five Paladins had arrived on the ship, and it served all of them as such now. 

They were working on combining the BLIP tech that had come standard with the Castle, with the map of the universe (complete with Galra occupied planets), with a DNA scanner, and were dabbling in Pidge’s Galra finder program, in an attempt to engineer something that could help them narrow down Aoife’s location from all the disparate places it could be. From what Keith and Lance could tell from looking in at the four of them from across the hanger, it seemed to be going decently well. 

Keith and Lance were decidedly at loose ends for the majority of the time, and Lance wouldn’t put up with more time spent in the training deck after almost three months of Keith and Allura, fighting nuts that they were, being in charge. 

Keith, in turn, was absolutely not putting up with Lance’s attempts at humor without a buffer, and as both Shiro and Allura were occupied with catching Shiro up with everything that had happened when he had been gone and with planning the liberation of the universe, the two of them weren’t inclined to humor the two loose end’s bickering. 

So the Blue and Very-Relieved-To-Be-Red-Again Paladins wound up sharing the Green Hangar with the Science Squad (Lance’s term, not Keith’s.) 

All eight of them would reconvene for dinner, which was invariably the goo, because Hunk couldn’t leave the project long enough to cook, and everyone else simply refused to eat Coran’s cooking. Dinner would consist of a discussion of what had been managed that day, and then they would spilt up for the evening. Pidge would trail Shiro wherever he went after dinner, Allura and Coran would occasionally join them, but would more frequently head off in their own direction. 

Hunk and Lance, as Keith had been repeatedly informed by Lance, would then head off for “Bro time. Inviolable and sacrosanct.” Keith suspected this meant Hunk was listening to Lance complain about Keith, and then Lance listening to Hunk complain about the problems in their projects.

As for Jenny and Keith, they settled back into their routine from whenever they had managed to snatch any free time, despite the five year gap between the two of their experiences.

They would find a place to sit, a couch, one of their beds, or just a pleasant corner of a hallway and sit down together, splitting the laptop between them and watch an episode or two of one of Amanda’s favorite TV shows, or listen to some of her music, or read a chapter of Lord of the Rings for the thousandth time. It was the only book she had on there, because it was her work laptop that had been brought with her, and she could have audio or video on there to play in the background while working, but having reading material was more frowned upon. Still Amanda had kept Lord of the Rings, well and Sansúkh, but that was more an extension of the book than anything else. The two of them had grown up with that book, and all three of them had picked pseudonyms from it. 

Ancalagon for Aoife in invocation of the dragon’s and its master’s fate, Angmar for Keith in protest at being the only man aboard their ship, and Glaurung for Jenny to pick a dragon’s name like her mother did, and in the bitter irony of his nickname.

More often than not, the next morning would find the pair asleep, collapsed into each other in a way that Keith was sure would be described as a “puppy pile” if any of the others saw it, the same way they’d so often slept as kids. Considering how much everything had changed, it was a relief that at least this much stayed the same. That they were still close enough that they could sleep coiled up next to each other, and sleep peacefully at that. 

Keith slept better next to Jenny than he had slept in the months Shiro had been gone, and he was fairly convinced that she slept better than when she’d been alone too.

Although Keith would later be relieved at how normal the others had taken the introduction of Jenny to their company, it didn’t mean that there weren’t moments of complication and tension.

Take, for example, what had happened the first time Jenny was offered food offhand by Hunk on the way to the Hanger-lab. The ensuing panic attack on Jenny’s part had taken Keith a while to soothe, especially when Hunk and Pidge were staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. 

It takes Keith dozens of reassurances that the food is freely given, that there are no strings that are given along with the food, that they can share the food if that will make her feel better. (It’s only a small serving because it was intended as a snack to tide one over until dinner. Keith heads her off again before dinner and explains again that there is no trap accompanying the food, that she doesn’t need to fear, that it’s not like so many times they’d run into those who would give seemingly freely and then take more that could be given in return. She spends the entire dinner picking off his plate anyway, too scared to take her own.)

So, Keith is still extraordinarily tense when Allura speaks up at dinner the third day after Shiro’s return.  

“Your mother,” she says, looking up from her tablet to direct her words at Jenny as the Galra girl picks at the plate before her. “You mentioned that she took medication that she no longer had access too. Do you happen to know what it is? Or was?” She finishes after a moment. “If it was entered in the Castle’s systems, we should be able to replicate it. Replication of medical materiel was well within the range of the Castle’s abilities at full power, and the infirmary has maintained less damage than most of the ship has amidst all the various attacks, so we should be able to have some of her medicine on hand once we locate her.”

It takes Keith’s brain a few seconds longer than Jenny’s to process that, because her face goes from confused and slightly concerned to elated by the time that Allura’s speech is finished. “The base medicine is two parts Dalexial juice, to one part serotonin, to one part alprazolam.”

That’s enough for Keith’s brain to go into hyperdrive and realize that there’s a possibility that Aoife can come back to them, and to get her the medicine she needs to be stable. He watches Allura with wide eyes as she types into the tablet, looking through the Castle’s systems for the components.

“Well, the serotonin and the alprazolam are entered into our systems, but the, the Dalexial juice, I’m not sure if I spelled it right. It’s saying that it’s not there, but it could be a mistake on the spelling rather than a lack of presence.” The princess passes the tablet over to Keith who enters it into the search function Allura’d had it open to, fighting to keep the others from seeing how his hands are trembling.

The search brings up no results. They don’t have it.

He passes it back to Allura and shakes his head. He can feel the happy energy leaving Jenny from next to him as she speaks, “Well, at least you have the serotonin and alprazolam. The better supplements typically had one or the other, so the fact that you have both is going to be an undeniable improvement.” He can hear her fighting to put the best possible spin on it. 

It doesn’t work. The serotonin and the alprazolam are important elements yes, but the Dalexial was the thing that tied them both together and made them fit with Aoife’s peculiar science experiment of a brain. It also happened to be the most expensive element, because Dalexial fruit only grew on its small native planet and any attempt to make it grow elsewhere just killed the seedlings. 

The only reason that Aoife had been able to get so much of it as a kid was that she was the princess of a universe spanning empire. As a refuge from the Galra empire, she hadn’t been able to get her hands on it at all. 

“How difficult is this Dalexial to get?” Shiro asked. “It’s not as if travel time would be much of an issue with the teludav.”

“Very.” Keith replies, word dead in his mouth.

“It only grows on one planet, deep in Galra territory. It’s prohibitively expensive and spoils too fast to be shipped outside of the Empire.” Jenny’s evidently decided that the forced cheeriness isn’t something that she can maintain. 

“The serotonin and alprazolam will help Aoife. The Dalexial is just a bonus.” Keith knows that his voice is unconvincing, but right now, he needs them to drop this topic. Aoife will have help, but it’ll still be imperfect. Just like everything else in their lives. 

Hunk provides a welcome distraction.

“Allura, you said that the Castle can replicate medical materiel. Would that extend to something like blood for transfusions, or would that be outside that scope?”

Allura’s face screws up thinking, and she turns to Coran, “I believe transfusions would be possible. There’d need to be some prerequisites, the species being registered in the databanks, and possibly a DNA sample. Coran, would you know any better?”

Coran pulled at his moustache, “I believe that if the DNA was available to the Castle, then it would be able to replicate a person’s blood for a transfusion if the cryopods weren’t working.”

Hunk smiles, the cat with a canary smile that Keith hasn’t seen since Olkarion. “If that would work, then I think that solves some of the problems that we,” gesturing to the science squad, “Were having.”

Pidge sits up straight from where she’d been slumped over her food goo. “That would, wouldn’t it.” At everyone else’s blank looks she looks over the rims of her glasses like they’re being idiots. It’s an unsurprisingly familiar expression. 

“One of the only problems we were having, and why we were dabbling with the Galra finder at all, was that because we didn’t have an exact sample of Aoife’s DNA, we were going to have to take a sample from Jenny and use the scanner to find all the people with DNA commonalities in the universe. When we use it to find Matt and my Dad, it won’t be as much of a problem, because there’s only four places that’d have people with DNA overlap. Where I am, where Matt is, where Dad is, and whole bunch where Earth is.” She pauses for a few moments, to sip at her space juice. 

“But because Aoife has so many different species blended into her DNA, there would be a possibility of several thousand matches, depending on how much DNA commonality that she shared with Jenny and with other people of other species. So we’d have to use some algorithm to pare down the search results.”

“But,” Hunk takes over for the Green Paladin, who now looks slightly winded. “If we could have the Castle generate a blood sample from Aoife, a perfect 100% match, then we could run it through the scanner as it is, and we’d only get two results.  Right here, and wherever Aoife is.”

“Grandmother had all her work on the laptop that Mama left with me.” Jenny says, breathless with renewed excitement. “She created Mama’s DNA strand on it, and we didn’t touch any of Grandmother’s work stuff, only her media files. It should still be on there, and we can enter that into the Castle.”

“And the Castle’s able to generate a blood sample from that.” Coran finishes for Jenny, before all of the science squad make to stand up and get started immediately.

Allura halts them and bids them all to finish their dinner first. “It wouldn’t do,” she reprimands, “for you all to work yourselves to exhaustion. Finish eating, and then you may head to make a blood sample with the Castle’s systems.”

If Keith knows Jenny and the rest at all, he can tell that the after-dinner period is going to just be more work and no rest. Leaving him to spend more time with Lance when the other teen hasn’t been allowed a chance to vent about Keith’s ‘annoying mullet.’ 

Spit. This will not end well.

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